


Breaking and Entering

by ForeverNever



Category: Chris Hemsworth - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, hiddlesworth - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Cherry Popping, Chris Is A Sweetheart, Consensual underage, Daddy Kink, Hotdogging, Just to make sure you saw that, M/M, Premature Ejaculation, Tom is 15, Underage - Freeform, Unsafe Sex, all consensual though, anal cherry, basically lots of kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverNever/pseuds/ForeverNever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Hiddlesworth oneshot. </p>
<p>Tom was dared to break into Chris' house, on threat of having to give a blowjob if he refused. Chris catches him, but doesn't punish him, and months later Tom finds himself fantasizing about his beautiful neighbor-turned-friend. Except it turns out that he isn't the only one fantasizing. </p>
<p>(UNDERAGE, in case you don't read warnings or tags. Fully consensual, but if it's not your thing please don't read it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking and Entering

**Author's Note:**

> So, again, UNDERAGE. Hopefully you know that by now, but I want to have full disclosure here. As with my other underage works I want to make it very clear that underage sex in the real world is NOT OKAY as an underaged person is not fully developed enough to understand consent. This is purely fictional, but it's an unfortunate kink of mine that I like to get out of my system every so often. I hope you like it, and if it's not your cup of tea allow me to remind you one last time that you don't have to read this fanfic. Thank you, and enjoy!

Tom muffled his whine in his pillow as he stuffed a third finger into his hole, rutting his cock down into the sheets. God, he felt so good, so terribly good, and he didn’t even feel any guilt when he imagined big, meaty hands holding him down, stretching him open. He didn’t feel upset when he thought of the dangerous darkness he wanted to see in those blue eyes, or the way he wanted that deep voice to talk to him, or the way he wanted to be opened up for that big cock.

He’d snuck glances a few times when he was over at Chris’ house, when Chris wouldn’t notice. And Chris had a big bulge in the front of his pants.

It had all started when he’d broken into Chris’ house a few months ago, and gotten caught. He knew it was stupid—the stupidest thing he’d ever done, by far—but when Daniel had dared him to creep in through the open window of Chris Hemsworth’s house, Tom hadn’t been able to say no.

It wasn’t that Tom was a vagrant, or that he thrived off of the adrenaline rush. True, he was fifteen and many young vagabonds began their nefarious ways at around his age, but that hadn’t been his motivation at all. Mostly he just hadn’t wanted to have to suck Daniel off. Such were the terms of the wager, and surrounded by other boys—all of whom were bigger than Tom’s tall but scrawny frame—Tom knew he didn’t have much of a choice.

His heart had pounded a million miles a minute when he slipped with a thud to the floor. He was in the kitchen, which faced the backyard, and when he looked back he could see the four or five boys across the street watching him. All he had to do, he told himself, was grab one little thing and get the hell out of there. His eyes darted around—a yellow dishwashing glove. That would work. It’s not like Chris would miss it (although Tom would probably bring it back and leave it on his doorstep anyway).

But he had miscalculated—or rather, the other boys had picked an awful time to set this bet. Chris returned home at nearly the exact moment that Tom hit the tiled floor.

Tom had heard the door open and panicked, rooting himself to the spot even though his mind was screaming at him to run. He could get in real trouble for this. He could get arrested! His blood rushed in his ears and the room threatened to blur, but he stood there anyway like a rabbit in a trap.

The moment Chris rounded the corner and saw Tom standing in his kitchen, the moment their eyes locked, Tom almost fainted. Oh dear Jesus in heaven, please just get him out of this mess. Then, “Hey!” made its loud way into Tom’s ears and he did all he could think to do—he collapsed on the ground and scuttled against the cabinets, making himself as small a target as possible and letting out a constant stream of, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, I’m sorry” with his eyes screwed shut.

There was a moment where Chris just stared down at him, then looked back up at the open window, then looked back down at the panicked kid. What the fuck was happening here? But Chris’ indignation wasn’t as strong as his unfortunate compassionate streak, and he huffed to himself at his own foolishness before getting on his knee a safe distance from the kid.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Chris had said. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. What are you doing in my house?”

“A-a bet!” Tom stuttered, still covering his head with his hands. “They—they made me come in, I swear—“

“And you agreed to it?” Chris had asked, incredulous.

“They—they would have…” Tom trailed off, flinching more into himself. “I’m sorry!”

“Wait, wait, they would have what?” Chris asked, taking a good long look at Tom; Tom knew he was a bony little thing, with scraped knees and a bruised elbow, and he looked every inch the kind of kid who would get picked on. Not surprising, given that he was. “What would they have done?”

Tom had whimpered pathetically, near to tears, and sympathy had darted across Chris’ face. “Tom? You’re Tom, right? From down the street?” Chris had asked. Tom nodded slowly, big doe eyes rooted to the ground. “Look, I’m not gonna say it’s okay for you to be in here, but I need you to tell me what’s going on. If you’re getting hurt—“

“They were gonna make me suck his cock!” Tom had yelled suddenly, eyes squeezing shut again. It had taken all of his courage to spit it out. There was an ominous moment of silence.

“What?” Chris asked, tone deadly quiet.

“They—they—they know I’m gay so they—They said they were going to hold me down!” Tom had almost sobbed. “They could, they—they’re so much bigger than me—I—“

That had been as far as he’d gotten. Next thing he’d known he was in Chris’ arms (which were the size of Tom’s head) being rocked gently even though he could tell that Chris was livid. Chris hadn’t called the cops, or even Tom’s parents, but a few days later Daniel Redbaker, Gilligan Walker and the Gibson brothers were all pulled out of the school. The teachers wouldn’t say why, but a ‘very serious’ assembly had addressed informed consent and sexual harassment just a few hours after the news broke.

Tom still didn’t know what Chris had done, but they became fast friends. Tom could almost always be found in Chris’ house, sipping on an iced tea and watching Chris cook or swinging his legs over the edge of the couch as he pretended to read, when really he was watching Chris watch television. Chris was fun to watch—not just because he made great faces at the telly, but because of how devastatingly handsome he was while doing it.

Tom didn’t really know when his innocent adoration for a man who had quite literally saved his ass turned into this dirty obsession, but he didn’t really care. All he knew was that he never came as hard as he did thinking of Chris spearing him open and whispering filthy things in his ear. Tom choked off a moan as he imagined Chris’ thick fingers in his ass, the others in his mouth to keep him quiet so the neighbors wouldn’t hear. That was the last push he needed and he came like white-hot lightning, barely managing to pull the sock over in time to catch it all. Living in a house with all women made laundering soiled sheets rather embarrassing.

He felt his tense muscles relax once he had pumped himself through it, and he threw the soiled sock towards the laundry bin. It missed.

He lay there for a while and just enjoyed the afterglow, but as it ebbed away he got up and decided to go see Chris. That was why he’d jacked off, after all—first off, he was the only one home just after school, and secondly if he went to see Chris without having a good wank then he’d get a woody and would spend the whole time trying to hide it. He popped in his smallest butt plug before pulling on his pants anyway, since it really was small (only about a finger and a half at the thickest point, and Tom was used to much more) and hardly noticeable. It was a pleasant feeling, but not enough to get him hard. It wasn’t like Chris would know.

And besides, Tom liked to be a little naughty.

Chris was at home, like Tom had known he would be. He knew Chris’ schedule backwards and forwards, and Chris knew when Tom was likely to be over. Tom was beaming when Chris opened the door, looking forward to an afternoon spent doing homework in Chris’ living room, but the moment he saw Chris’ haggard face his smile fell.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and Chris just sighed and gestured him in. He’d given Tom a key to use in case he needed somewhere safe, but Tom never used it. He wanted to prove he was trustworthy. Tom stepped past the threshold, worrying the strap of his backpack. “Chris? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Chris sighed, rubbing his temple absently. “Shit just went down at work last night, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you get fired?” Tom asked, suddenly frightened for Chris. Chris was a night guard at the self-storage place a few blocks over, and didn’t get paid too well. He made some money on the side teaching self-defense classes, but Tom knew he was already worried about money.

“No, nothing like that,” Chris assured, trying for a tired smile. “There was a break in and my buddy got hurt. The police showed up, all that jazz. We caught the guy, and my coworker will be fine after a little rest and relaxation, but there was a ton of questioning and paperwork. I just got back.”

“So that’s why you’re still in your uniform,” Tom said, trying not to let his eyes roam. Now was not the time, no matter how gorgeous Chris looked. “I’m sorry, I should let you sleep—“

“Nah, it’s fine,” Chris said, and Tom wavered. Should he leave? But Chris seemed to want him to stay. Was it okay? “Hey, quit thinking so hard,” Chris said, flicking Tom’s nose. Tom scrunched up his face. “I said you can stay, so stay. You have homework?”

“Just a little,” Tom said, rubbing his nose and shooting Chris a look. “Just some biology, it won’t take long.”

“Alright then, make yourself at home,” Chris said, gesturing to the living room down the hall. There was a beat-up couch, and a chair, but Tom always sat on the carpet and worked on the coffee table. They settled in, Chris sprawling out on the couch with his legs spread wide as he asked, “So your mom’s not home yet?”

“No, not yet,” Tom answered, digging around in his backpack for his textbook. “Emma has a parent-teacher meeting or something, I don’t remember.”

Chris got along with Tom’s family. He was a nice guy, and Tom’s mom—who was worn thin with trying to keep up with three kids on her own—appreciated any help she could get. She trusted Chris, maybe she even hoped he could be something of a male role model for Tom. There was no way in hell Tom was ever going to tell her what he really thought of their neighbor.

Chris grunted in acknowledgement of Tom’s answer, but said nothing else. Tom got to work on his homework, but kept glancing up at Chris worriedly. Chris had laid his head back, eyes closed, and Tom was really uncertain what to do. It was obvious looking at Chris that he was tense, every corded muscle of his arms and shoulders tightly wound. The poor man was probably dead tired after working all night and being up all day, and here he was entertaining Tom. Tom felt the weight of guilt. He had to do something to help, it was only right.

He sat there, chewing on his lip and trying to focus on his homework, until he heard a soft sigh from Chris. When Tom looked up he was still in the same position, but seemed to be trying to relax. Tom realized how he could be helpful and shuffled up.

Chris opened his eyes and raised his head as he heard Tom’s movement, but Tom didn’t let his questioning gaze deter him. He sat down beside Chris, legs folded under him, and gently reached for Chris’ head. Chris didn’t stop him, despite the cocked eyebrow he sent Tom’s way, and Tom loosed Chris’ long hair from its low bun. He’d always really liked Chris’ hair, and when he reached his shaking hands into it he found that it was just as soft as it looked.

You see, Tom was good with his hands. After giving his mom and sisters backrubs all the time, he knew how to make people unwind—and a good scalp massage was just what the doctor ordered. Sure enough, as Tom gently but firmly massaged Chris’ scalp, Chris closed his eyes with a sigh. “Mm,” he hummed, and Tom figured that was probably a good thing so he kept going.

He just kept it up for a while, watching Chris shed more and more of his tension, enjoying the feel of Chris’ skin. God, Tom just wanted to run his hands all over—but he wasn’t that stupid. Still, after about fifteen minutes Tom got a stupid idea.

He didn’t know why he actually did it. Maybe he was emboldened by Chris’ receptiveness to his touch, or maybe he was just crazy, but he hitched a leg over Chris’ hips and sat in his lap.

That got Chris’ attention. Chris’ head shot up and he gave Tom a confused look, but he didn’t protest. Tom even thought he saw Chris’ big hands twitch happily, but he was probably just making things up again. He always interpreted Chris’ friendly touches as more than that. “My legs hurt,” Tom reasoned, “and there isn’t room to stand behind the couch.” Chris kept his eyes on Tom, but didn’t make movements to get him off his lap, so Tom continued with the massage.

He quickly realized that he wasn’t going to be able to hide his growing erection. There was something about being so intimately close to Chris, having his legs stretched over Chris’ own larger ones, that made Tom feel bare and vulnerable, and that was exactly what he wanted. And Chris’ eyes were boring into his face, watching him, trying to figure him out, while Tom kept his gaze resolutely on his hands in Chris’ hair. Chris was just so _big,_ all muscle and meat, and Tom felt tiny. Chris could flip him over and hold him down and have Tom any way he wanted, and Tom wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing.

Tom couldn’t stop the shudder that wracked his body at the thought, feeling his cock harden in his pants. He didn’t even try to hide it. He just focused on breathing (steady, steady now) and touching Chris for as long as he would be allowed to.

Still, scenarios kept flashing in his mind’s eye that made his mouth water. How many times had he thought about an alternate past, where Chris found him there in his kitchen and utilized a more erotic form of punishment? How many times had Tom imagined Chris just taking him, rutting into him like an animal? Every single fantasy flew around in his head, and he could feel the underside of his cock pressing into his zipper. He hardly even noticed that his hands were wandering now, sliding up and down the sides of Chris’ thick neck, caressing more than massaging. Chris’ skin just felt so wonderful under his palm.

Chris noticed, though, and Tom felt those big hands on his hips _just the way Chris would hold him when he fucked into his sloppy hole, bruising his jutting hipbones, oh God yes_ like Chris was trying to push Tom away, but without the pushing. Tom only swallowed the second half of his pleading whine.

Then it hit him that he was sitting in Chris’ lap, with his hands definitely not doing what they were originally doing, sporting a raging boner and probably blushing, _and he had just whined._ Tom stared down at Chris, suddenly terrified because there was no way Chris could have missed the desperate arousal in that sound. Chris stared back, but he wasn’t scared. His pupils were blown and he looked almost…predatory. Tom realized in that second that he had unleashed something he hadn’t known was there, and something he couldn’t control.

A shiver of excitement ran up his spine.

Chris’ suddenly dark eyes looked into Tom’s long enough to make the teen fidget, but that was nothing compared to the way it felt when Chris raked his eyes down Tom’s form. Tom could _feel_ Chris’ eyes on him, taking in every pale, scrawny inch, and his cock twitched. There was an intent on Chris’ face that was impossible to mistake.

Chris growled when he saw how tented Tom’s pants were, eyes snapping back up to Tom’s. “You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you?” he asked, voice low, and Tom shuddered.

“Yes,” he breathed. _Punish me,_ he wanted to say, _make me behave like the good little boy you want me to be,_ but he couldn’t find the air. But it didn’t matter, because Chris’ hands tightened on Tom’s body hips in such a possessive way and Tom knew, in a surreal kind of way, what was about to happen.

“Naughty boys get their asses spanked,” Chris rumbled before abruptly letting go. “Get in position.”

Tom couldn’t have scrambled faster if he tried. Seconds after the words left Chris’ mouth Tom was placed obediently over Chris’ legs, which were spread so that one supported Tom’s chest and the other his hips. Tom’s head hung down, and he had his hands and feet firmly on the floor. He was really hoping he’d need the support.

Chris didn’t disappoint, one huge, hot hand clamping onto the back of Tom’s neck to steady him before the impossible crack and sting of the first spank. Tom gasped, jolting forward, but Chris’ hand at his neck held him still. Even through the denim of his jeans Tom could feel the sharp heat, and his cock gave a fascinated twitch. Oh, God, he’d always wanted to be spanked.

Chris was merciless, waiting only seconds—probably checking for Tom’s reaction—before raining down blows with an open hand. The second spank made Tom keen, and he didn’t stop keening. He shouted in painful pleasure at each firm blow, feeling his entire backside start to singe because Chris just refused to let up. Just as good as the spanking itself was the feeling of the taboo, because Tom wasn’t stupid, he knew this was never supposed to happen, but _he wanted it please Chris don’t stop please it hurts so good yes._

It wasn’t until tears were leaking steadily from the corners of Tom’s eyes and a damp spot had formed in Tom’s underwear that Chris paused—but he didn’t completely stop. He started ripping at Tom’s jeans, pulling them over Tom’s plump, red ass and taking the boxers down too, and Tom just whimpered as his heartbeat pounded in his scorched ass and heavy cock. “That’s it, Tom, let me see your perfect ass so I can smack it hard—“

Then Chris stopped, the sudden change making Tom whimper. There was an abrupt lack of all movement and all Tom wanted was for Chris to keep going, even though his rear hurt so bad, he just wanted Chris to never ever stop. Why did he— Then Tom’s entire mind, which had gone numb with the intoxicating mix of whatever was happening, startled back into clear, terrified conscious.

_The plug._

Tom had forgotten it was in, and now Chris could see it—a light yellow heart-shaped flange that had the words _fuck me_ emblazoned on it in bright pink for the world to see. Tears came to Tom’s eyes for an entirely different reason, and one of his hands scrabbled back to try to cover himself. He wanted to use both hands, but he couldn’t rest his whole weight on Chris’ legs without Chris’ knee pressing painfully into his skinny chest and Chris caught Tom’s wrist anyway.

“Chris…” Tom crackled, close to sobbing. Suddenly he wasn’t turned on at all, the humiliation crushing. What had he been thinking? God, he looked like a tit, he looked like a whore, he just wanted Chris to let him go so he could run away and never come back. He could never look Chris in the eye ever again.

“Oh, baby,” Chris breathed, eyes still fixed on Tom’s hole, “you look so perfect.”

Tom let out a little sob, and Chris’ big hand smoothed over his back soothingly. “Hush, baby, don’t cry,” Chris rumbled, sounding like he was about to let out a stunned laugh. “You’re so incredible. God, I fucking love you.” Tom cried then, so horribly relieved and still a little frightened, and Chris just let him. It didn’t last long, and when Tom was mostly just hiccupping Chris started stroking Tom’s abused backside. Tom’s breath hitched.

“You like that?” Chris asked.

“Yes,” Tom whimpered, cheeks flaming.

“And is this what you came here for? With that sweet little plug in your ass?” Tom shuddered.

“N-no, I…”

“Do you want me to stop?” Chris asked seriously.

“No!” Tom said quickly. Chris smiled brightly.

“Good. I’ll never make you do something you don’t want, but I’ve wanted you for so long. I wanna take care of you, baby, just as much as I wanna fuck you. Would you let me do that?”

Tom almost started crying again. “Yes. Chris, yes.”

And Chris laughed, jovially and relieved, one hand on Tom’s burning ass and the other between his jutting shoulder blades. “I was so hoping you’d say that. Are you still hard?”

“A little,” Tom said, embarrassed but sure he was in a safe place. He didn’t even bother trying to say he’d never gotten hard in the first place.

“I’ll get you back to hot and bothered, don’t worry, baby.” Tom shivered.

“I like it when you call me baby,” he admitted in a small voice.

“I like calling you baby, baby,” Chris smiled. “Now, if you didn’t put this in for me, why are you wearing it?” Tom felt a tiny tug at the plug, not enough to remove it but enough to make him gasp.

“Because it’s where good little boys want their daddies’ cocks,” he whimpered, and was rewarded with a deep groan.

“You want me to be your daddy, little boy?” Chris asked. “You want me to make you mine?” Tom rocked his hips against Chris’ thigh, stuttering out a breath.

“ _Yes,_ ” he said.

Chris growled again, then the plug was moving again. Chris took the end of the plug in his massive fingers and started moving it, just a little, just enough to make Tom want more. He ground his hips back, hoping Chris would get the message, only to be smacked across his stinging ass again. He yelped, whole body jerking away because _holy shit it felt so different without the pants in the way_ as Chris murmured, “I’ll give it to you, but you’ve gotta be patient, baby.” So Tom settled again, and kept his whines to a minimum as Chris took his sweet time playing with the toy.

Finally Chris popped it out, and Tom thought he was finally about to get something better. Only for Chris to slide the plug back in. Tom whimpered as Chris continued, painfully slow, and it seemed like it took forever for Tom to break.

“Chris, daddy, please—“ Tom gasped. “Please, I need more. I can hardly feel it! Please, daddy.”

“Hardly feel it?” Chris asked. “So this is small for you?”

“Yes, daddy,” Tom said, thrilling at the words that could finally leave his mouth.

“How big is comfortable for you?” Chris asked.

“I—I have a few bigger toys, but four of my fingers is the biggest I can take,” Tom said, so excited now, so hard and aching. He wanted to come so bad, but he just didn’t have the stimulation. All of this was so overwhelming, God, how long had he wanted this? Chris groaned.

“You’ll have to show me someday,” he said, voice heavy with want. “I can’t wait to see you on my bed, face down and ass up as you shove four of your pretty little fingers into your slicked up hole. Getting ready for me. Fuck, baby, just thinking about it makes me all hot.” Tom whined, pressing his hips back into the still moving, still too-small plug. “You really need something bigger?” Chris asked.

“Yes, daddy, _please_ ,” Tom panted.

“I don’t have much, just my fingers,” Chris said, fake-upset as if that wouldn’t be enough. Tom moaned, rubbing his hips back desperately, and Chris chuckled deep. The next thing Tom knew Chris had two fingers buried in his hole, right next to the plug, and Tom gasped. Fulfillment! God, he felt such fulfillment with Chris’ fingers deep inside him.

“Mm, is that good, baby?” Chris asked, massaging at Tom’s inner sanctum with his fingers. “You like my fingers?”

“Oh, yes, daddy, yes!” Tom cried. “Your fingers are so much bigger than mine, daddy. They feel so good.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Chris said, searching around inside of Tom’s hole for that one special place. Tom couldn’t always find it on his own, but Chris suddenly had it pinned and Tom’s eyes rolled back. He didn’t even realize he’d cried out until his mouth snapped shut as Chris did it again. He was vaguely glad that he hadn’t caught his tongue between his teeth, then all thoughts went streaming out his ears, not to come back because Chris kept up the most delicious onslaught and Tom wasn’t sure he could breathe.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it, moan for daddy,” Chris said, and Tom’s chest swelled with pride at how breathy Chris’ deep voice had gotten. “Daddy just loves opening you up, feeling you squirm on his lap while he fucks you with his fingers. You’re still tight, baby, but not so tight I’d have to worry about hurting you. You’re the perfect in-between. You really could take a real cock up here, couldn’t you?”

“Oh, daddy, yes please, yes, _please,_ ” Tom babbled, white encroaching on his vision even though his head was starting to pound from hanging down like it was. Nothing he said made any sense to him, but it didn’t matter because he felt so good, so _good,_ like the sweet little boy he wanted to be for his daddy. God, Chris was his _daddy._ That knowledge sent him spiraling, close, so close now. But Chris growled and his fingers were suddenly gone, the plug taken with them, making Tom pant and whine desperately.

“Hush, baby, daddy’s gonna give you want you want,” Chris said, manhandling Tom’s pliant body with his big hands until Tom was peering up at him, laying on the couch with his cock angry and red on his flat little belly. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby, fill you to bursting. Is that what you want? You want daddy’s fat cock in you?” Tom moaned, close to incoherent now, and Chris’ hand smoothed quickly over Tom’s curls.

“Stay right here, baby, just like this,” Chris said, standing up. “I’m gonna get some slick to make it easier, then I’m gonna come back and fuck you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tom breathed, his cock giving a defined twitch. Chris smiled at him before darting off, his whole body tense with want, and Tom tried desperately to catch his breath. Somehow he knew he was going to need it.

When Chris came back his pants were gone, and the ravenous way he looked at Tom made Tom wonder just what he looked like. Did he look appealing, all bony knees and jutting elbows, with his shirt rucked up to his nipples and his pants just barely below his ass? Did Chris like the heavy flush that crept up Tom’s ears and down his neck, the residual tears in his big eyes, the red of his burning bum? Tom didn’t have much time to question it, because then Chris was on him and there was lube getting spread all over his red, puffy hole. He squirmed and moaned, a sound that Chris greedily swallowed, and Tom felt so oversensitive—like an exposed nerve. But he _burned,_ he ached for more, he was so desperate and Chris could tell because he didn’t make Tom wait.

“You ready, baby?” Chris asked. “Do you want this?”

“Yes, Chris, _yes,_ ” Tom whimpered. “I promise. I promise.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” Chris panted against Tom’s open mouth, lining himself up. Tom felt the broad head of Chris’ cock against his entrance and almost swooned. This was happening, _God this was happening_ and Chris was pressing in slowly, piercing Tom open and Tom felt the air punch out of him.

It did burn, a little bit, because Chris was big and there hadn’t been too much prep—not that Tom would have survived any more prep. He was ready, he was so ready, and Chris wasn’t pushing him too hard. Just hard enough, actually, enough to make Tom thrill at the feeling of being split open, but never so much that it was too painful. Tom whined, high and breathy, as Chris’ hips hit his. Chris was so big, so thick and long, and so very hot. Tom’s head swam.

“You okay, baby?” Chris asked. “Tom, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Tom breathed. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Then Chris’ lips were on Tom’s, open and devouring, and Tom responded with a lazy vigor. He felt so blissed out, and he hadn’t even come yet. He could feel his pulse in his cock, but it was nothing in comparison to the feeling of finally being broken open by a real, hard cock. Chris’ cock. There was nothing better than that.

Until Chris moved, and Tom couldn’t help a long moan as Chris’ heat dragged against his inner walls. God, it was absolute agonizing bliss. “That’s it, baby, moan for your daddy,” Chris panted as he pushed back in carefully, golden hair hanging in his eyes. He seemed to love his new role as much as Tom did. Tom reached up and Chris leaned his face down into Tom’s little hands, letting Tom hold either side of his head and just look at him. Tom whimpered when Chris pushed back in, their eyes locked, and the elation that Tom felt knowing that this man was his daddy now made his vision swim.

Tom clenched his inner muscles, wanting to see Chris’ reaction, and Chris’ wrenching groan was almost too good. Chris grit his teeth down at Tom, who realized suddenly that he had just definitely changed the ballgame with that little show of autonomy, and then Tom found himself pounded into the couch.

“AAAH!” Tom’s voice broke on a scream as Chris’ huge cockhead pummeled into his sensitive prostate at a rate that could only be compared to a jackhammer. There was a slight burn, but as aroused as Tom was it only heightened the pleasure. He loved being stretched. Chris growled as Tom’s hands scrabbled at Chris’ broad shoulders, Tom’s eyes rolling back—but not before catching a glimpse of Chris’ animalistic face.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Chris grunted, “take my fucking cock. You love it, don’t you? My little slut. You’re daddy’s little slut—“

Tom’s orgasm crashed into him unexpectedly, making him go rigid. It was the kind of orgasm where you can’t even scream even though your mouth falls open, and you can’t see a damn thing even though your eyes go wide. It roared through Tom, a white-hot desperate kind of pleasure, licking at his insides until he thought he would pass out.

He didn’t pass out, but when he went completely limp he found himself gasping for air. He didn’t think he’d breathed through the whole thing.

Sensation came back to him slowly, first the murmur of Chris’ perfect voice saying how good he was and how sexy he’d been, then the feel of Chris’ hand rubbing through his wild hair—and, finally, the throbbing feeling of Chris’ still-hard cock stretching him wide. Tom’s eyes flew open, mortified. Had he just come? So soon? Chris had hardly been in him for five minutes! Tom felt his eyes water, and he threw an arm over his face to hide.

“Tom? Baby? What’s wrong?” Chris asked, his voice suddenly edged with panic. “Did I hurt you? Tom?”

“I-I’m sorry, daddy!” Tom hiccupped, still hiding his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“Shh, shh, Tom, it’s okay,” Chris said, hands hot as they soothed over Tom’s sides. “It’s okay, baby. Just tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

“I—I came,” Tom said in a tiny voice. Chris let out a relieved sigh.

“Oh, baby, I wanted you to come,” Chris said. “I’ll never be angry at you for having an orgasm. That’s what I want you to have.”

“But, but—“ Tom said, moving his arm just enough to peer up at Chris with watery eyes, “but I want you to come too.” Chris just smiled down at him.

“Oh, baby,” Chris sighed. “You’re so good to me. Can I flip you over?” Tom nodded his head enthusiastically, and Chris gently manhandled him so his face was in the cushion, his belly flat on the couch.

“Are you gonna fuck me again, daddy?” Tom asked, boneless and tired. He wasn’t sure he could take that again, but if it made Chris come he’d do it. He knew he’d be sore tomorrow, but he relished it.

“No, baby, not tonight,” Chris said. “I don’t want to hurt your pretty little hole. I’m going to put my cock between your cheeks, though, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” Tom said, his eyes fluttering closed. He was exhausted, sated in the best of ways. He lay limp as Chris squeezed Tom’s perfect little cheeks around his pole, thrusting shallowly. Tom was surprised how much he liked the sensation. The bottom of Chris’ cock scraped over his used, slightly sore hole with every thrust, and Tom adored it.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this, baby?” Chris asked softly. Tom hummed. “Ever since that day I saw you in my kitchen. You looked so small and scared, and I just knew that I had to take care of you. You’re perfect, and precious, and I’m going to be so good to you.” Tom smiled lazily, eyes still closed, as Chris picked up the pace. “I’m going to treat you right, Tom, I’m going to buy you things and take you out, and I’m going to make love to you like you deserve. My perfect boy. My baby. Mm,” Chris grunted.

Tom peeked up at Chris through his lashes, eyes heavy with impending sleep. Chris looked so beautiful like this, all glistening muscles and rippling movement, and as Chris’ beard scraped the back of Tom’s neck with kisses, Tom thought he could get used to this.

It took a long time for Chris to finish. He spilled all over Tom’s slim back with a rumbling moan, thrusting erratically before going still. Tom sighed contently at the feeling of Chris’ hot seed coating him, already imagining Chris filling him up. Tom listened happily to Chris’ panting until Chris said, “You tired, baby?”

“Mm-hmm,” Tom hummed, eyes slipping closed again. He was floating. Chris chuckled.

“Want me to call your mum?” he asked. “I can tell her you fell asleep doing homework again. She’ll let you stay over.”

“I’d love that,” Tom said. “I wanna wake up next to you.”

“I want that too,” Chris said tenderly, grabbing some tissues from the coffee table.

“Leave it?” Tom asked. “I want to feel it on me.” Chris smiled.

“Okay, baby,” he said, kissing Tom’s forehead before going to call Tom’s mother. Tom didn’t hear the conversation after the first sentence, dropping off into a contented sleep.

He had never felt so loved in his life.


End file.
